


fringe

by mahariels



Series: tamar shepard [6]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Earthborn (Mass Effect), F/M, Fluff, Sole Survivor (Mass Effect), Vanguard (Mass Effect)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 21:26:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7123162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahariels/pseuds/mahariels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>garrus has never seen shepard's hair down before. human hair is--strange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fringe

It took Garrus a while to realize that Shepard didn’t just have the human equivalent of a fringe, but she had _a lot_ of it. It was always tied back severely and professionally in a knot, probably longer than regulation. He had to admit, he was curious what it looked like freed, if only because it was so unusual and out of character. Shepard was always so buttoned-up and serious, never out of her dress blues on the bridge, that he couldn’t even picture it. It was just one small thing about Shepard–she put forth the face of a perfect soldier, but the more he got to know her (and recently, _really_ got to know her) the more he realized there were cracks in that facade. 

She hadn’t even taken it down that night on the way to the Omega Relay. She’d kicked him in the face by accident and he’d heard her laugh uncontrollably for the first time in their acquaintance, both of which had been _something_  all right, but she’d kept her hair in the knot. And then he’d gone to Palaven and she’d been put under house arrest and it was a year and they’d both had other things to worry about.

Sure, he was awkward, but she was just as bad if not worse. It was kind of comforting, in a strange way. No matter what he did, at least he knew she wouldn’t judge him too badly for it. And whatever he’d seen in the vids, at least he knew she wasn’t necessarily expecting– _that_. It took some of the pressure off and he could just concentrate on _her._

He was waiting in her cabin by the time she had seen to her last round of patrols and checked in with all of the crewmen individually and called it a night. Something in his chest jumped a little when she looked down, saw him sitting on the edge of her bed, and smiled. 

“Welcome home, honey,” he joked, approximating the tone of a human husband in one of the retro vids they played sometimes, and was rewarded with a snort of disdain that was almost as good as another grin.

“ _Long_ fucking day. But I think the Primarch’s settled in, and that reporter is keeping to herself. So I’m satisfied.”

“I still can’t believe you let her on the ship.”

“Anything for the war effort,” Shepard said, belly flopping onto the bed. 

The force of her fall sent him bouncing, and he reached out to set his fingers on the small of her back, partially to steady himself and partially because he wanted to touch her. As always she tensed a little when he first did it, but relaxed when he didn’t move away. (He remembered, the first time, asking her, _is this okay? I can stop_  and she’d said, _it’s not you, Garrus, I’m always like this, I’ll tell you when I want you to stop_.) The knot of hair, larger than he remembered it, rested against the nape of her neck.

“A few hours ago you punched a brute to death, so I’ll take you at your word.”

“It was fun,” she said, grinning, and then sobered. Rolled up into a sitting position to face him, her dark brown eyes intent on his face and the corner of her mouth turned down. This was a human expression of apology, and sorrow. “I’m sorry–I didn’t mean it that way. You know I enjoy the fight, but Palaven–”

“I know, Shepard.”

She took his left hand in hers, all of her fingers curling around his, their thumbs hooking together–she’d been getting easier about that. The kiss on the cheek in the battery had surprised him. She didn’t offer any platitudes about winning this one, or taking Palaven back, and he was thankful for that. It was enough that she was here, that _he_  was here, and that they’d gotten Victus safely off of Menae. 

“Can I–?” he asked, gesturing.

“Can you what?”

“Your–fringe.”

“My hair?”

“I’ve never seen it loose.”

She laughed, one of those snorting, harsh noises that sounded more like she was making fun of herself than amused at anything he had said. “There’s a reason for that, but if you want to–be my fucking guest.”

He felt tentatively around the edges of the knot, because this was new territory for him. Of course turians had nothing like this, and while he enjoyed having his fringe rubbed as much as anyone, he had no idea how sensitive human _hair_  could be. And he wasn’t sure how she kept it up. Just to the touch, it was soft and thick, and as he explored with his fingers, he found the edge of an elastic band and a number of folded metal pins.

“Pins?”

“You’ll see,” Shepard said, a little sourly.

He took out the pins, one by one, as she sat patiently under his hands. His chest jumped again, that she trusted him to do it, and didn’t jerk away. There were a _lot_  of fucking pins, a small pile of them, growing as he explored. She exhaled a little breath when he accidentally stabbed her with one as he tried to pull it out, and every time he thought he’d found them all and ran his fingers along her skull to check, there was one he’d missed.

With each pin, more and more flyaway curls popped out, strands of hair she kept buttoned down and hidden during the day. It didn’t change the way her face looked, exactly–she still had her usual harsh features and one eyebrow quirked as if she was just waiting for him to finish–but she looked more–well, he was gonna have to stop thinking about that if he wanted to get this done.

The band was difficult, and he supposed that if you had a lot of extra fingers it might have been easier to undo, but he managed it in the end.

“Ow!” she said, as he tried to tug the hair from the band.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s fine–”

And then he managed to pull the band off and free her hair and he was so fucking surprised that he actually laughed.

With the band gone, her hair had _exploded_  in a cloud of uncontrollably messy curls, a volume he couldn’t have suspected was there just by looking at it.

“And that’s why I’ve got all of those goddamn pins,” Shepard said, grinning at him. The smile was a little sheepish, like she was almost embarrassed by it. “I… always kept it short, when I was younger, and in training. It’s a little vain to let it grow out, but I have the _choice_  now. No one’s going to tell a Spectre to cut their hair.”

“It’s beautiful,” Garrus said, because it was. Strange, and unusual, and not at all what he had expected he’d find attractive when he was a young turian in basic training, but it was Shepard, and it was beautiful. He wound his fingers into it, and she smiled at him, and he said, “I missed you too.”


End file.
